How do I know I’m done with the book?
That question is one that wouldn’t go away. Is it finished? Is it ready for eyes other than my bloodshot, caffeine reinforced vision? Should there be this? What if my second chapter doesn’t work? How about I muck around on the net more? (SpikedMcgrath.com has a lot to answer for, even if there is a weakness in the ship design I forgive you.) These questions follow on the tail of That question.
The more you exist in their world as opposed to living in the world where you need to remember to feed the family, or perhaps sleep, the more real it all becomes and the more That opposite reality intrudes.
Arrrgh. The path to insanity right here!
Yesterday, the questions stopped. I had answers for those what ifs, buts and maybes.
Partly, already, I owe this to the Like a Virgin Pitch Contest I’m involved in. Partly due to the feedback from assignments. Partly because I know the story I want to tell. Possibly because I have mucked about on the net so much looking at pretty pictures. (This I very much doubt…)
Confidence is a wonderful thing. Yes I’m still editing, still tweaking, ironing (housework has resumed its claim on me so that’s another promising sign.) out the creases.
Wait…
Did I just put promising and housework in the same sentence? *shudder*
There are some scenes to be added, and more to come from my ‘test subject’. Of course there is still some polishing to be done, the rosewood must gleam, the cobwebs of doubt must be banished, and the cogs of plot made to churn smoothly ready for visitors.
But The First Book, my first book, is done.
All I have to do is write…
THE END.
Soon…(A writers work is never done.)